It was a typical hot, humid summer day in southern Kentucky. As I walked across the field through tall grass, avoiding thistles, disturbed grasshoppers darted in all directions around me. I thought of how easy life must be for grasshoppers. All they had to do was nibble on grass and hop around anywhere they wanted. It would be great fun to be able to jump around like that with nothing to worry about. All I could see in my future was this mess I was in. If I lived to be one hundred, I was sure I’d still be sitting somewhere, probably a nursing home, thinking about how my life had been ruined by that little plate of cookies. I probably wouldn’t be treated very well either. The nurses at the nursing home would likely know my history and would give me shameful looks as they brought me my tasteless food. I could never live this down. I was sure my grandmother’s dying words would be, “I told him not to take her those cookies.” Even if I never spent a day in jail, I’d forever be an outcast. The only thing I knew to do at the moment was to get away from the situation.
In a little while I reached the railroad tracks. I picked up Bruno and climbed the small gravel hill to the tracks. I figured if I heard a train coming I could quickly grab the dog and slide down the gravel bank. After walking about a half mile, I looked over and saw a mean-looking bull watching me from the bottom of the gravel bank. I made a note to myself not to slide down that side of the tracks if a train came.
The bull reminded me of an incident that had occurred the previous summer. I had been walking with Charlie across an open field, a field owned by an old man known around town as Old Man Cooper. The old man lived in a dilapidated house that would have made good kindling. We figured Mr. Cooper wouldn’t see us since we were out of sight of the house. He was very paranoid about people walking on his property. Whenever he’d see someone on his land, he’d walk outside on his porch and shoot a rifle. I don’t think he ever actually shot anybody, but he wanted to give the impression that he would do just that.
As we were walking, we noticed a bull watching us from a neighboring field. We weren’t too worried about it since we knew Mr. Cooper didn’t own any cattle. When we got closer to the bull, however, Charlie made a frightening discovery. The bull was standing next to a section of rotten fencing that had been trampled down. Charlie yelled, “Run!” We took off running towards Mr. Cooper’s house. The excited bull crossed the fence and came after us. I was afraid to look back and see how close the bull was getting. I imagined I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck.
As we ran, we approached the back of Mr. Cooper’s house. To our horror, Mr. Cooper came out the back door carrying his rifle. I thought it was over for sure then. We had a bull behind us and Mr. Cooper in front of us. There was no way out. Mr. Cooper raised the gun in the air and shot three times. We kept running, but Charlie glanced back and said, “He scared the bull away.” I glanced back, and sure enough, the bull was running the other direction. When I looked towards the house again Mr. Cooper had already gone back inside. We slowed down to a fast walk, out of breath. I asked Charlie if he thought we should go thank him. “No,” he said. “Old Man Cooper likes to be left alone. He’d probably shoot the gun again if he saw us approaching the house. We best just get moving along.” I thought to myself that maybe Old Man Cooper wasn’t as bad as people believed he was.
The sky was beginning to clear. There was hope of avoiding a thunderstorm for the time being. I was now approaching a wooded area. As I walked, the woods became thicker, and the ground was closer to the tracks. Bruno left the tracks and trotted along the edge of the woods. I came upon an area where large rocks had been cut through to make way for the railroad tracks. Having skipped breakfast in my panic, I was getting hungry and tired, so I chose a flat, smooth rock to sit on and take a break. With my feet dangling off the edge of the rock, I opened my backpack and took out a Payday candy bar and ate it, washing it down with some water from my canteen. It was fortunate that I had already packed my things to go to Truck Mountain.
I started to jump off the rock but paused when I heard Bruno barking profusely. I looked down and saw an angry possum hissing at the little dog. I jumped up, grabbing my backpack, and ran along the rocky ledge until I was a safe distance from the possum. I had always heard that if a possum bites you it won’t let go. I was also afraid it might have rabies or something. Rabies would add the icing to the cake of this bad day. Jumping off the ledge and returning to the safety of the tracks, I yelled angrily for Bruno to leave the possum alone and to come along. The excited dog gladly followed me away from the strange creature.
Walking a little further down the tracks, I came upon an overgrown, abandoned road. I had been to this crossing once with my dad, as sometimes he would take me on little trips in his truck and tell me stories about the places we’d go. On this occasion he told me about an incident that had occurred at this crossing back in the 1930s, a story that has made me leery of railroad crossings ever since. A young couple and their ten-year-old daughter had been to town shopping and were returning home in their Packard Town Car. The car had been having mechanical problems lately, but the father had not gotten around to having it repaired—a fatal mistake. As the car approached the railroad crossing, the family must have heard the train coming, but the father—building upon his fatal error—didn’t bother to stop, likely figuring there would be plenty of time to make it across the tracks. Unfortunately, the car died as it started across. According to the train conductor, the daughter made it out of the car but ran back to try and save her parents who were still inside, too frozen in terror to save themselves. The family was wiped out with a horrible explosion of metal and a day’s worth of shopping goods. A witness, who had approached the tracks just in time to see the tragedy, said that the daughter, who had sacrificed herself to try and save her beloved parents, was thrown several feet into the air. Fortunately, the family’s youngest son, too young to tolerate a long day of shopping, had stayed home with his grandmother. (1)
It occurs to me now that everyone has a train of some sort approaching in the distance, ready to strike one day, expectedly or unexpectedly.
After about another half an hour of walking, I got off the tracks and headed across a field of newly planted tobacco plants, careful not to step on any on the young plants. This field belonged to Charlie’s family. By early fall the plants would be over my head. I had been planning on making some money later in the year by helping Charlie’s dad strip tobacco on weekends, at least on the weekends I wasn’t helping my dad with auctions, but now I figured he probably wouldn’t want to hire someone like me. Heck, my dad probably wouldn’t want to hire me either. Thinking of these things, I walked across the field towards Charlie’s house, which I could now see faintly in the distance.
When I got closer to the house I was afraid that Charlie’s mother would see me and call my mom, so I went inside the barn and watched the house and yard through a crack. I knew they were home because the garage door was open, and I could see the green Lincoln parked inside. After waiting a few minutes, I saw Brenda come out the back door, seeming to be in a hurry but dressed fit for church, as usual. She ran to the car, nearly stumbling in her high heels, and drove off. Charlie wasn’t with her, so I figured he must still be inside the house. I didn’t see Mrs. Mayfield’s car either; she was the woman who cleaned the house about three times a week. It was my big break. I walked carefully up the steps to the back door and banged on it.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Charlie asked through the screen door, seeming perplexed.
“I had to run away,” I said nearly in tears. “Something bad has happened.”
“I know,” said Charlie. “I heard that you were missing. And now everybody’s looking for you. My mom just took off to go to your house.” Charlie opened the screen door, and I went inside. “Come on in, and I’ll call her at your house. Maybe I’ll get on her good side again for finding…”
“No, please don’t call her,” I pleaded.
“Why in the world not?”
&nbs
p; “It’s a long story, but I think I might have accidentally killed Miss Hazel.”
“What are you talking about? How could you have done that?”
“The night before she died I brought her a big plate of cookies, and the next thing I know she’s dead. I heard my mom say that the deputy was probably going to arrest me for it.”
“What’s the big deal about cookies? What would cookies have to do with her dying? I mean, so what if you brought her some cookies.”
“Yeah, but Hazel is diabetic. She used to be anyway.”
“What’s diabetic supposed to mean?”
“It means you can’t eat sugar, or it will kill you.”
“Just tell them you didn’t know she was diabetic.”
“They won’t believe me because my grandmother told me not to take her the cookies, but I did it anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t realize diabetes was so serious. Now I may end up in jail or something.”
“That’s the craziest mess I’ve ever heard of anybody getting into. That’s wild about the deputy wanting to arrest you. I never would have imagined it. And I thought I had problems. You may be in a lot of trouble for it. I mean, you’ll probably be in trouble because your grandmother told you not to take her the cookies, but I don’t think they’ll put you in jail for it. For one thing, you’re just a kid. You can play stupid. It’s not like you shot her with a gun or something. She didn’t have to eat the cookies. I can’t believe that deputy is wanting to arrest you; that’s just crazy.
“Now that I think of it, I did hear mom say something about Miss Hazel, but I didn’t catch the whole conversation. She was so wigged about you being gone. So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said, nervously rubbing my right ear. “I came over here hoping you might have an idea what I should do.”
“Well, you came to the right person. You can’t stay around here listening to your grandmother tell everyone about how she told you not to take her those cookies. The whole town will be giving you dirty looks. The best thing to do is hide out for a while, let everyone think you’re dead or something. That way, when you get back home everybody will be so glad to see you that they forget all about what you did. You can come up with some story like how you were kidnapped and barely got away.”
“I’m not very good at lying,” I said.
“Don’t worry; let me do most of the talking. I’m pretty good at lying. I’ll hide out with you.”
“Really, you would do that for me?”
“Yeah, I’m in a bunch of trouble myself. I’ll be grown before I get ungrounded. I’m tired of the way I’m treated around here, anyway.”
“What happened? How did you get in trouble?”
“Remember I told you I had to go to my aunt’s wedding shower?”
“Yeah.”
“It turned out to be a disaster. I got in a fight with one of my brat second, or third, cousins. I pushed him so hard he fell and knocked over the table with the cake and punch. It was the biggest mess you ever saw in your life. My mom was madder than I’ve ever seen her. She said she was too embarrassed to ever show her face around that side of the family again. She said I was grounded until I was eighteen. Luckily, thanks to you, she had to leave this morning, so I was able to get away from her for a little bit. She starts yelling again every time I look at her. Maybe if I run off she’ll appreciate me a little more. Parents always like their kids better if they think they might be dead.
“Hey, I just thought of something.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Since you’re such a murderer, maybe she won’t think I’m quite as bad as she did before.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Well, anyway. I’m tired of all this crap around here. I’m tired of getting grounded all the time for nothing. I’m ready to get out of here. We better hurry and get going before she comes back home. It’s lucky too that my sister’s staying at her friend Betty’s house. She stays over there half the time, thank goodness. After us laughing at her shoes the other day, she’d turn us in for sure. She’s just looking for a way to get me in trouble.”
“I almost forgot about her,” I said. “That was a close call.”
“Let me run grab some things real quick. I’ve got some army stuff that’ll come in handy. My dad’s got some stuff left over from Vietnam. With that he ran upstairs and in a little while came back down with a loaded green rucksack on his back and two canteens attached to belts. He handed me one of the belts with a canteen and put the other one around his waist. “Put that on so you’ll have some water to drink.”
“There’s nothing in it.”
“Yeah, I thought we’d just drink some air. Of course we have to fill them up before we go. I’m not nuts, you know.”
“I’ve already got one canteen, anyway.”
“How long do you think that will last?”
We went into the kitchen, filled up the canteens, and headed out the back door, not knowing where we were going. Bruno was waiting for us in the back yard and followed us as we headed across the field toward the railroad tracks. I was relieved to have some company. We were both fugitives now.
“I just thought of something,” said Charlie.
“What’s that?”
“Where exactly are we going?”
“I haven’t really figured that out yet,” I said. “I figured you might have an idea.”
“Well, we were planning a trip to Truck Mountain. I say we go there for right now. It’s a good thing we didn’t tell our parents about it.”
“That’s a good idea. They won’t look for us there.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“That would be just the precise thing we didn’t need right now—a thunder storm,” said Charlie.
“It does that a lot of times in the summer but never actually rains. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Yeah, we’ve been so lucky recently,” said Charlie with a laugh. I even laughed a little bit too.
“This stuff we’re carrying is going to start getting heavy after a while,” I said.
“It’ll be good exercise.”
“Yeah, I need some exercise, anyway.”
“Me too,” said Charlie. “I’ve been looking at some muscle magazines that my dad has. I sure would like to look like some of them guys in the magazines.”
“Wow, I wish you’d brought some of them magazines with you,” I said. “I’ve been wanting to get in shape too.”
When we were nearly to the railroad tracks, Charlie yelled, “Duck down!” and fell to the ground.
Perplexed, I lay on the ground beside him and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Can’t you hear it?”
“Yes, I do now.” A roaring sound was steadily getting louder. A train was approaching. We lay on the ground, tall weeds reaching above us. Bruno annoyingly tried to lick my face, seeming proud that I was down to his level, but I pushed him back.
“If the conductor sees us, he’ll radio in and tell them where we are,” said Charlie. “Then it will be over. We’ll have to go home and be grounded forever. To boot, they’ll probably never let us play together again, not after us having run away together.”
“How would he even know they were looking for us?”
“Believe me, word gets around fast. I’m sure he must listen to the radio. We’ll probably be seeing helicopters before it’s over.”
“Oh my gosh,” I said, “this is such a mess. I never meant to be such a bad person.” I started to cry quietly and turned my head so Charlie wouldn’t see. By the time the loud train had passed, I had dried my eyes. We stood up, dusted ourselves off, and made our way to the tracks, where we continued in the direction of Truck Mountain.
“Miss Hazel was a good person, you know,” I said. “I’m sure she’s in heaven. She’s worked for my grandmother for years and years. After her husband died, she moved in that little house behind my grandmother’s. I think they were
best friends really. My grandmother told me not to bring her those cookies. I’m such a terrible person,”
“Now don’t cry,” said Charlie. You’re going to get me started, and I haven’t cried in months.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just can’t help it. Miss Hazel was such a nice person, and I had to go and ruin it.”
“Anyway,” said Charlie, “we’ve got to think about how we’re going to survive this. We need to figure out what we’re going to eat and what kind of shelter we’re going to live in. I’ve got some ideas I’ll tell you about later. We don’t have time to cry about it. We’ll make an adventure out of it. We can go back home after everything settles down.”
“I guess this will be fun,” I said. “But I’m already starting to miss everyone.”
“If we go home right now we’ll be in all kinds of trouble. We’ll be grounded until we’re old and grey.”
“And I’ll probably be in jail.”
“Oh, they ain’t going to put you in jail for that,” said Charlie. “The deputy’s nuts or something. Just the same, we better stay gone for a while and let things settle down. My mom’s going to kill me when she finds out I took the money. And you don’t want to have to go to Hazel’s funeral with everybody there giving you dirty looks. They’ll be happy to see us again if we stay gone a long time.
“Hey, I just thought of something.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Stephanie don’t live too far up the track here.”
“So?”
“So, she’s kind of got problems too. She stole that light switch cover, remember?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she might be willing to help us out.”
“But what if she turns us in?” I asked.
“She won’t turn us in because we’ll just tell her that we know about the light-switch cover.”
Chips of Red Paint Page 6